


Basmachi

by charcoalfeather



Series: The Basmachi Universe [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Multi, Original Characters - Freeform, Original work - Freeform, Soviet Union, USSR, basmachi, historical fiction - Freeform, prose, russian civil war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-06-25
Updated: 2010-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 02:44:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charcoalfeather/pseuds/charcoalfeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on true events during the 1920s in the Soviet Union and Central Asia, Basmachi tells the tale of a Kyrgyz man, Chinghiz, who must struggle to understand the failings of his own ideology when reality threatens to throw him out of his ivory tower. As he interacts with the Basmachi bandits, various anti-Soviet revolutionaries, and other people involved in the Russian Civil War, notably the captive son of a notable Red officer, Mitya, he begins to question his ideals. Things are not what they seem. No matter what he does, he will not win against the USSR...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Basmachi

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress. Things will be added and taken away when necessary. The first chapter was actualy written in 2010 and posted on deviantart (albeit with a part of the beginning clipped off and not put on this site, because I don't like it anymore). The original link (with the unclipped beginning) is [ here.](http://charcoalfeather.deviantart.com/art/Basmachestvo-Ch-1-168869700)
> 
>  **Terms:**
> 
> _Basmachi_ : Central Asian bandits. They are not necessarily anti-Soviet and may just be looters, but during the Russian Civil War, many of them were under the anti-Soviet, pan-Turkist Enver Pasha, who supported an independent Turkestan free of Soviet influence. He was also supported by British and American anti-Communist forces and the White Russian army.  
> 
> 
> _Beshbarmak:_ : Literally, five fingers in many Turkic languages, including Kyrgyz, Kazakh, Tatar, and Bashkir. It refers to the fact that the dish itself is eaten with one's hands. The meat is boiled, often mixed with noodels, and served in a dish. At the end of the meal, God is always thanked. Sheep's head is served to the most important and honourable person. 
> 
> _Alif-ba_ : Arabic term for the Arabic alphabet.  
> 
> 
> _Tüshündüngüzbü:_ do you understand?  
> 
> 
> _Tüshündüm, oba:_ I understand, uncle.  
> 
> 
> _Mankurt:_ a reference to Chinghiz Aitmatov's _A Day Lasts a Hundred Years._ It is a reference to a Kazakh legend in which prisoners of war are turned into slaves by having their heads caged in camel skin "hats," which dry tight under the hot sun of Central Asia and enslave the prisoners forever, turning them into de-facto "zombies" unable to recognize anything or anyone but their master's orders. In the book and in former Soviet republics according to author N. Shneidman, the term has come to refer to non-Russians who have been cut off from their own roots due to the Soviet system (and, as the book implies, personal attitudes towards one's own people due to Soviet acculturation).

Suddenly, he was reminded of the hubristic implications of the mission he was about to undertake. 

_Taking another's life, is it not playing at being God?_

Still, as he rode on, the hills gave way to canyons, which eventually released him into a dusty bazaar situated in the outskirts of the city of Osh. The oldest city of all of Kirghizia, Osh was well known for its Uzbek Basmachi presence. Located close to Fergana valley, it was the hot spot for rebel activity against the Russian Bolsheviks.

In his old home in Kyzyl-Kiya, he had a family photo framed on the wall by his uncle: it had a festive gathering with everyone in his family present. His grandfather, with his wide, tanned face resembling a sea of wrinkles, was wearing a ridiculously tall kalpak and smiling as if the future held much promise for their small family. He, Chinghiz, the namesake of Genghis Khan, the only child, was squashed between his grandfather and his father. He was wearing an old chanpan and an expression of infantile astonishment as he gazed into the camera's lens. With a hand on his father's shoulder was his mother, a peaceful expression on her otherwise plain, thin face. A smile played at the corners of his lips as he recalled this particular scene. It had been the day that marked his initiation into urban life and politics; it had been the first time he'd ever seen a camera but also the last day he would ever spend in his yurt in Kyzyl-Kiya, for this photo marked the day when his Uncle Daniar took him to the capital of Pishpek in pursuit of a better education for him.

Behind the yurt lay undulating pastures and monumental silhouettes of the Tien Shan Mountains in the distance. Further away, a herd of horses was silently grazing and a spray of birds soared above, crying out a plaintive tune. That last day, his parents had made _beshbarmak_ just for him and given him the best pieces of the sheep to him, namely, the head and the eyes. He remembered their sweet, milky taste; a taste that no other home he had encountered so far in his life could reproduce. And the expressions on his parents' faces were impossible to forget, even now: an alloy of sorrow, hope and of confusion and certainty. Even then, at the tender age of 5, he had known that the future was uncertain. His parents could not affirm whether Daniar's choice had been for the better good or not, but even they knew that education could get their son somewhere. Although they were content living as nomads, they knew that their way of life could not continue. It was the turn of the 20th century and the Russian Empire, extending its furthermost tendrils of power into eastern Turkestan, was encouraging the settling of the area by Slavic colonists and these new settlers inevitably took the best and most fertile land for themselves, appropriating land that had previously belonged to the nomadic Kyrgyz population. Forced off their own land by colonialism, Chinghiz's family was driven to a small, infertile plot of land, from which they could reap nothing. Driven into poverty, they were forced to hope for the best for their son's future when long-lost Uncle Daniar returned from Moscow, stating his intention to take Chinghiz to Pishpek. 

His parents had been shocked. "What for?" they had asked. The family had been decimated already. After they had lost their land to the settlers, hope had ceased to exist for them, as they were illiterate and had no hopes for finding permanent jobs. His father, who was keen on selling kebabs at the local bazaar, was the only one to work and what he earned was meager, barely enough to feed his wife and son. Chinghiz was precious to them, since he had been the only child born to them that had survived to the ripe old age of 5. They might not have had many expectations for him, but at least, they wanted him by their side, to accompany them in their old age and pass on their bloodline. They were the descendents of the legendary warlord Manas and Chinghiz's father had never let him forget that. "We have a bit of Kazakh blood," he had explained. "That's how we're related to the Golden Hoard! Remember, Chinghiz, that we are the descendents of Manas…"  
Daniar had smiled at his parents and replied tactfully, "There will be no future here for him. Illiterate, poor and forever miring around in self-pity and ignorance…that is what he will become if he continues without an education."

Illiterate, poor and forever miring around in self-pity and ignorance. These are words that no one would like to have directed at them, and Chinghiz's parents were no exception. Daniar, with his exuberant, opinionated and straightforward nature, had not a bad heart, but he had a way with words that could convince others to do his bidding. Like them, he had come from a peasant background, but through his own diligence and perseverance, he had moved to Pishpek as a young man to study and later still, managed to go to Moscow to further his studies in politics. He was a man of entirely his own making; incorrigibly self-centered, but still good-hearted enough to send small sums of money back yearly to his brother's family in Kyzyl-Kiya from his job as a Kyrgyz language newspaper editor in Pishpek.

Chinghiz's parents had then decided, without a second thought, to send him to Pishpek to study with Daniar. Frightened and confused, he had asked them, "Why must I leave?" They had kissed him on the forehead and told him that it would bring about a better future, one where he would always go to bed with a full stomach and be able to read and write. "Do not forget your roots, Chinghizhan!" his father had whispered in his ear that morning he was about to leave. 

Do not become a _mankurt…_

In Pishpek, he lived with Daniar in a Victorian styled flat in the Russian quarter of the town and attended a Tsarist school. Daniar, although he had seemed intimidating on their first meeting, had turned out to be an excellent mentor and a steadfast companion. Biased, authoritarian, but accessible and kind nevertheless, Daniar was the father he never had. Whereas his biological father had loved him but was unable to spend much time with him, Daniar's job did not require a lot of time so he spent most of his time with Chinghiz. Unable to speak or understand Russian, Chinghiz, through Daniar's tutelage, quickly managed to pick up the alien language. Predominantly of Slavic origin, his classmates had entirely different lifestyles and experiences, but Chinghiz, having had grown up with them, would come to adopt their mannerisms and behavior. His Kyrgyz gradually became eroded by Russian words and his failing memory until he had thoroughly became in all but in body, a Russian boy.

However, on his tenth birthday, when he got out of bed that morning, he put on new clothes as well as a pair of leather shoes. He also received myriads of presents: a chess set, a set of pencils, Dostoyevsky's _Crime and Punishment_ (even though he had not been exactly fond of reading), and a set of Rumi's poetry, translated in Kirghiz by Daniar. He had been puzzled by the poems at first, since they had been written in the Arabic script that had been used at that time to write Kirghiz, but Daniar had quickly taught him the Arabic alif-ba. Down the rabbit hole of Orientalism he went, as he became more and more entranced by Rumi's search for the nameless and bodiless Beloved and his descriptions of the love-mystery of presences in life. The crisp descriptions and the rich tapestry of Islamic stories featured in Rumi's poetry had delighted his child's mind. " _Tüshündüngüzbü?_ " his uncle would ask as he entered the room, peering over Chinghiz's shoulder as he read the poems. " _Tüshündüm, oba,_ " he would reply in Kirghiz. Gradually, Chinghiz came to appreciate the rhythmic and sonorous tones of his native Turkic tongue more than he had ever before. Russian was still spoken at school and to his comrades of course, but Kirghiz was reserved for Daniar. It also delighted him to no end that no one in his quarter understood Kirghiz, so he and Daniar could speak about whatever crossed their minds, as long as it was in Kirghiz.

Kirghiz. When was the last time he had spoken it? A few days ago, at most. Now that he worked for the Basmachi under Enver Pasha, Russian was the main language spoken. Although the Basmachi were mainly composed of Turkic rebels, there were also White Russians, Mensheviks, British arm suppliers, Czech and Polish Catholics and many other kinds of people who were, in one way or another, offended by the Communist powers. Yes, the very Communists who had murdered Daniar in cold blood when he had led the Kirghiz exodus to China. The Communists who were right now hot on his trail and plotting to destroy the very foundations of Turkic society. Grinding his teeth, he reminded himself of his imminent task and galloped away into the depths of the dusty steppe.


End file.
